Chorus
by North of the North
Summary: He knew who he was. Just because others refused to see who he was and tried to make him feel at fault for their own behaviour did not mean he would ever lose sight of who he was. Trigger warning: Transphobia


Chorus

One-shot-finished writing up 20 June 2019

* * *

Mathew slammed the door, not even caring about how it shuddered when it came close to closing before bouncing out to slam back to hit the other wall again, and with that noise sending his papa running down the hallway towards him from the kitchen with his hands all covered with soapy water from washing dishes.

Mathew didn't care. He was currently throwing his school shoulder bag to the ground. Feeling a hint of satisfaction from the heavy weight of his textbooks thunking against the ground as he glared down at it, like it was at fault for his current state of displeasure…rather than himself.

Mathew's papa, Francis, slowed down as he saw that Mathew and the noises he'd heard were not caused by any danger, and merely a storm of anger. Now, he approached slowly.

"Mathieu? Are you okay?"

Mathew tried to nod his head, but that movement threatened to let the tears he was barely holding back start to drip down his cheeks. So instead he relinquished himself to the comfort of the father he was closest to, and threw himself into the hug his papa had already opened himself up for.

Still, he couldn't bare to speak. He didn't want to hear his own voice right now.

His papa was understanding, as he always was when he was in states like these, and took to stroking his back, pausing only to reach out and grab hold of a decorative polar bear resting in a shelf nearby to hand it to Mathew to cuddle on to, which Mathew did, despite the fact that at 14 he felt he really shouldn't be hugging his papa so desperately or holding on to a stuffed bear like it was his last lifeline in a swirl of white water rapids of the emotions clogging up his throat.

Somehow, his papa guessed at the matter.

"It's choir practise day today, isn't it?" His papa's voice may have been questioning but it was also sure of itself.

Mathew knew his papa already was mostly sure it had been but could barely do confirm it for him still, not wanting to nod and let the tears he'd brewed up again escape a second time, but he managed a quick nod with his purple-blue eyes still blurred through with tears behind his glasses without any more waterworks flying from him.

"Did the boys try and say you weren't a boy again?"

Mathew didn't nod, but he heard his papa's sigh and knew his papa knew that it had happened, even without any confirmation from him.

"I'm sorry, Mathieu. They are judging you, and they shouldn't be. You've only been on the hormones for a while, your voice will deepen soon. You'll get the body you are inside soon. I don't really know how to comfort you right now while you are still in transition and hurting so much from everything they are saying. But I can offer again, would you like to move?"

That question again….

No. Mathew felt his resolve harden within him again, as it had before, and his tears cleared up enough, along with the tightness in his throat enough for him to reply back to his papa, "Non, papa. I won't let them win. They are bigots and mean-spirited, but they will not beat me."

Somehow, in just those simple sentences, his tears had cleared away from his eyes fully and his eyes had deepened to a darker purple as he took a step back, holding the stuffed bear in one hand as he grabbed back hold of his bag, and swung it back onto his back, ready to bring it upstairs to work on the homework it carried within. Now, he felt his strength come back.

He knew who he was. It had hurt getting told straight to his face, mocked, that he had such a high voice for a "girrrrllll" as the boys in class with him had drawled out in such fake high pitched voices when their choir teacher had taken the sopranos, the girls, away to practise their part in the other half of the band room, and with their taunts soundproofed from the teacher's line of hearing, the boys had decided to pounce and try and tear his confidence down…again.

But he knew who he was. He'd stayed strong and witty, sending a repartee back at them, and only breaking down once he was in sight of his front door. But he'd cried too much over this matter... and other similar incidents already.

He knew who he was. Just because they couldn't seem to grasp anything outside of their definition of normal did not mean he wasn't normal. They were just small-minded.

Mathew knew who he was, and he was stronger than this, just as the boys were weaker in mentality than he would ever be merely for the views they tried to impose misogynisticly on the girls, and transphobically onto him.

He knew who he was, and he was stronger and better than they were. And that was it in a nutshell.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**I hope to see you all in pictures of the climate strikes that are happening worldwide! I've been Striking every Friday now for months. We need as many people as possible to do so. If you enjoyed my work here, please consider taking an hour, or more, of your time to go and stand up for our future. This Climate Emergency will mean that I am more likely to die of climate change than I am to die of old age, not to mention everyone else on Earth is also threatened. We need action. So please, do all that you can. Look up Greta Thunberg, Fridays for Future, Extinction Rebellion, Earth Action Now, Youth Climate Strike, etc.**

**Cheers,**

**North**


End file.
